


Some Dissembly Required

by perletwo



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Disassembled, Fix-It, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perletwo/pseuds/perletwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where did Wanda get those "chaos magics" if there isn't any such thing? From a God of Mischief, of course. A possible backstory to Avengers Disassembled.</p>
<p>Written for the Avengers Reverse Big Bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Dissembly Required

In a darkened corner of a long-forgotten Asgardian temple, Loki the Liesmith sat cross-legged in a circle of candles. Between the candles sat hinged noisemakers similar to finger chimes, enchanted to provide a steady chatter at a gesture. 

Before him was a wide bowl, filled with herbs and ground powders. He poured a measure of liquid into it from a flagon of wine, then picked up a wire brush and began swirling it around the lip of the bowl, which created a melodic humming vibration. A second charm set the brush to swirling itself steadily, and Loki spread his long thin arms out to either side and stretched his neck, eyes closed as he murmured the words to an ancient spell. Soon he felt his spirit swell and spread and pass through his skin, rising into the sounds and smoke and aura of power his spell had created.

************

 

Safely tucked away in an overlarge suite in Avengers Mansion, the Scarlet Witch slept.

Sleep was seldom a friend to the Witch. It was there that memories and demons of the past – a disturbing number of them literal demons – lay in wait for her. For in sleep she was no longer the powerful, confident mutant hero of her waking hours, but the frightened child who bore the brunt of hatred and blame – for what crimes she seldom knew – in every village and hamlet where she and her twin sought refuge. 

Only with the Avengers had she ever felt truly accepted, or fully at home. But even surrounded by her adopted family, in sleep Wanda was always afraid. Even happy dreams carried with them a dark edge of fear, waiting for the ax to fall on her imaginary happiness.

Tonight her sleep was fairly tranquil. In the dream realm, she walked the broad welcoming sidewalks of a residential neighborhood, in what she somehow knew to be a sleepy, relaxed outer-ring suburban town. Roses and ivy and lilacs lined and climbed white picket fences bordering rich green lawns; every house Wanda passed was Levittown-plain and well-kept, yet just this side of contemporary – nothing quaint or old-world here as there had been in Europe.

_I wonder what kind of lives they have inside those houses,_ she thought wistfully. _These places belong to people who are making their own history, instead of being ruled by superstition and tradition._

She walked on, weaving to one side to dodge a pair of laughing boys riding bicycles, and tried to ignore the soft whisper in her mind: _I wish I could live someplace like this._

A cloud slid over the mellow sun, and Wanda looked up, raised a hand to shade her eyes.

When she leveled her gaze again, a slim, pale, androgynous figure with long dark hair, eyes with pupils so wide they looked black, and blood-red lips stood before her.

“Good tidings, Wanda Maximoff,” the – woman? – said, and bowed, fingers plucking at the fabric of – her? – green gown.

“I -” Wanda shivered. Nothing about the person before her was particularly sinister. But she didn’t like having someone simply appear in her path, especially someone so out of tune with these cozy surroundings. “Do I know you?”

“Do you?” A slim finger rested along a magnolia-petal cheek. “I’m sure I couldn’t say, my dear. After all, how well do you know anyone? Even those you call your dearest ones.”

A small furrow creased Wanda’s brow. “You know my name. Might I have yours?”

Dark red lips lifted into an Etruscan smile. “Some have called me the Mother of Monsters, though never would I speak so of my babes. You may call me that, though, since I come to you this day as one mother to another.”

Wanda shook her head. “But – but I have no children.”

“Of course not, my dear. _They_ wouldn’t let you. Your happiness runs counter to _their_ interests.” The smile twisted, knifelike.

A shiver ran through her. “I – have no idea what you’re talking about. I answer to no one.” She lifted her chin, hoping to exude pride. “My happiness comes through my work. I serve and protect the people of this world from unimaginable threats. It is work only a select few can do.”

A pale eyebrow lifted. “Really. And you never yearn for any other sort of happiness?” 

The Mother lifted a hand, waved it at the houses lining the street. “Look around you, Wanda. It seems so little to ask of life, doesn’t it? A simple life. A quiet home. A doting family.”

The cloud covering the sun shifted, and a shaft of light fell on one house. Wanda saw a duplicate of herself, costume and all, tending the rose bushes while a man in khaki slacks and a polo shirt tended fragrant cuts of meat on a charcoal grill – the Vision.

At the other Wanda’s feet sat two giggling toddlers, one boy white-blond, one dark, passing a small rubber ball from one to the other. Tears pricked her eyes as she drank in the bucolic scene.

The Mother stepped up behind her, leaned over her shoulder.

“This was your life once, Wanda,” she breathed. “It could have been yours forever, if not for _them._ ”

Wanda turned her head slowly to meet the Mother’s eyes.

“The Avengers,” the Mother continued in the same hypnotic undertone. “ _They_ couldn’t let you go, could they? _They_ needed the power of your chaos magics. _They_ needed you to keep Pietro sane and stable. _They_ put their needs ahead of yours.”

Wanda shook her head, a little desperately, and turned back to stare at the - _her_ front yard. Before her eyes the Vision’s street clothes morphed into his costume, his coloring faded to a soft uniform eggshell, and the smile faded from his lips and eyes. His posture shifted to something – the only word to describe it was _robotic._

At her doppelganger’s feet, the little boys morphed into red, snarling demons, battling and snapping animalistically at each other. Wanda gasped.

“Oh, come now, my dear. Does it matter so much what form they take? They are still blood of your blood, born of your body. Would you have loved them any less if they entered the world looking like Nightcrawler? Or Toad? They are your _children._ ”

“But – but they didn’t.” Her lip trembled. “…did they? I can’t – quite -”

“- remember?” The Mother smiled. “Of course you can’t, dear. _They_ saw to that. It wouldn’t do to have you pining for the life you actually chose all by yourself, now would it?”

Wanda’s lips tightened. “They wouldn’t do that. Not to me. Not to anyone. They didn’t…”

“No.” The Mother sighed. “They didn’t do _anything,_ did they? Look again. The Vision. Your _husband._ ”

Wanda blinked, a sudden flood of memories surfacing. Noticing the Vision brooding quietly on the sidelines, shying away from human contact outside of missions. Reaching out her gloved hand to touch his artificial one. Vision, offering her a yellow rose. The hint of a smile touching his lips, the warmth of his soul lighting his eyes. Standing together with Swordsman and Mantis at their side as Immortus wed both couples.

With the ebbing of the tide came a silt of darker memories. Tittering whispers about her relationship with Vision. Lurid jokes about the sexual prowess of an android. A clutch of construction workers accosting her to show her what a “real man” was like. Heat rose in her cheeks and she swallowed hard.

“You begged them, didn’t you? The Avengers. How many times did you plead with them to restore Vision’s soul, to help you bring back the man you loved? And they did _nothing._ ”

The Mother’s voice was low and hypnotic in her ear, and Wanda shook her head. If only that infernal buzzing would cease! It reminded Wanda of a dark night fleeing a mob with Pietro, when her young brother slit open the carcass of a cow, scooped out its innards and shoved them both into the makeshift hiding place. Horseflies and maggots were their companions through that long night, and it had left her with a horror of insects of all kinds.

Tremors overtook Wanda, and she stepped back. “This is – I can’t – Intolerable -” 

Her words were swallowed up in a scream.

************

Gloved hands gripped her wrists, holding her still until her screams and tremors subsided. Wanda opened her eyes and looked into the cold red light of the Vision’s gaze.

“Scarlet Witch. You were dreaming.” His voice was utterly devoid of emotion, and he released her wrists to return to parade rest. “A nightmare. Are you well now?”

“Yes, I – yes.” She shook her head to clear it. The details of the dream were slipping away like sand through her fingers. She looked around the suite. It was just too damned large for one person, she thought; somehow having the Vision there felt right. Made it feel more like home. “Vision?”

“Yes.”

“Were you watching me sleep?” A faint trembling smile touched her lips.

Vision didn’t move, didn’t so much as twitch.

“I have monitor duty tonight. The security system alerted me to your screams. I reacted as I would to any teammate in distress."

“Of course.” She looked down, plucked at the coverlet. “Vision? Would you sit with me a while? Just until I fall asleep again?”

“Monitor duty,” he reminded her, and floated toward the ceiling. He paused, and looked down at her. “I will keep a sensor tuned to this room for further disturbances. If you wish.”

“Thank you,” she replied, dejected. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, shivering.

 

************

Another day. Another mission. Another threat to world peace brought to a swift and vengeful end.

After, a lazy afternoon in the sun, basking by the swimming pool with the rest of the team. Hawkeye practiced his draws for the Wasp’s admiring eyes, just far enough away that Jan’s voice wouldn’t reach him as she lay on her belly alongside Wanda.

“…but I can tell _you,_ ” Jan was saying. “…my monthly friend was a little late. But it was just a false alarm – last thing the world needs is another little Clint Barton -”

Startled, Wanda lifted her head to study Clint, who pulled his bowstring with perfect focus, oblivious to a conversation that could have set his world on its ear. She heard her own voice, offering a weak reply.

“ _Ugh._ Can you imagine, me with a kid? You think a kid would stand a chance of growing up normal in _this_ environment? Nope. Avengers shouldn’t be parents. Heroes shouldn’t be parents. Parents shouldn’t be heroes. That should be a rule. And you thought you could have two?”

Wanda’s blood froze in her veins.

************

 

In her sleep, the scene played out before her again, the angles wrong, the sunlight too strong, leaving everything it touched tinged with phosphorescence.

Once again, the Mother of Monsters stood at her side, whispering low and throaty in her ear.

“Look at them,” she murmured. “Look at the _arrogance_ of that woman. So smug. So sure she is that she knows what is best for everyone! She would be a dreadful excuse for a mother, you know. She’s not wrong _there_ at the very least. So deeply mired in her own conceit she drove the great love of her life to madness. So contemptuous of the father of her prospective child! _And him._ ”

Involuntarily Wanda’s eyes flew to Clint. “He once swore to you he’d love you forever. Did he not? And yet he can cavort with this cheap tart, and right in front of your very face, no less. How many trollops have you watched him dally with over the years?” The Mother sniffed. “Though considering how he treated that one jade he took for a wife, perhaps you should count his lack of fidelity a blessing, Wanda.”

“I was married too,” she pointed out weakly. “I never encouraged Clint. I never _wanted_ Clint. I made that clear to him. Over and over. He _should_ be with someone else. Anyone else!”

The Mother sniffed again. “Very well and good for you to say,, that is. But did he put any restrictions or conditions on his declarations of eternal love? I believe he did not. A man of honor cannot have it both ways. He cannot give his heart to one completely and yet give his salacity to another, now can he?”

Wanda just shook her head. “I never _wanted_ Clint,” she repeated.

“Just as well, as he throws his favors away on the likes of _that_ one.” Involuntarily her eyes went back to Jan. “Just listen to her! The disgust she feels at the fondest dream of your heart, Wanda Maximoff. Her chagrin when she realizes her error. Her flight. _How dare she?_ ” 

Wanda’s head turned slowly, and her eyes met the Mother’s.

“How dare _they_?” the Mother echoed.

************

 

Another day. Another mission. This time, practicing diplomacy at the United Nations.

So naturally, who steps up to take the lead but Iron Man? Because when you think of tact and understated dignity, your thoughts turn automatically to Tony Stark, Wanda mused.

Stark’s voice droned on, and the background hum of conversation reminded her of the steady chittering of insects. Wanda’s attention faded out.

_Look at him,_ a familiar voice sounded in the back of her head. Tony had the ambassadors spellbound with his charisma, and his shiny shiny armor. Inwardly she snorted. If they only knew…

She had seen him at his worst. Drunk, confused, stumbling around alleys barely conscious. _If they could only see what I’ve seen…_

“…ya know what a rat fink is, pally? You should, Latveria invented them! Look it up in the dictionary, you’ll see your face, or your puppet master or… Let’s all just vote to wipe your &*($#^ country off the map already. Build an amusement park out of the whole thing and call it a day. …I mean, look at him! Latverian trash stinking up the whole – he _looks_ like a rat -”

Wanda tuned back in just in time to see T’Challa stand and confront Stark. To her horror she saw Tony lift his hand to aim his repulsors…

“…I know this feeling…” Tony was near tears, Wanda could see. “I think I’m drunk.”

“You _drank_? Oh, _Tony._ You’ve been sober for so long!”

“Wanda, I didn’t have _anything_ to drink.”

_Sure you didn’t,_ the voice in the back of her head whispers. _I know who you really are, Tony Stark._

************

 

In the dream realm, it was Halloween in her peaceful little dream-town. Parents and children roamed the streets in costumes. A few steps in front of her, Vision led a miniature ghost and a miniature devil from house to house, a tiny hand in each of his. He still wore khakis and a polo shirt, but had painted his red synthetic skin to peachy pink, added a brown wig and Groucho Marx glasses with the nose and moustache.

Strangely, each door they went to was answered by an Avenger, who placed a weapon in each boy’s bag in lieu of candy.

“Do you know the real reason why so many heroes wear masks?” The Mother said from behind her. “It’s not just to protect their true identities. It’s so that the world won’t see their true faces.”

Wanda considered that. Snapshots from the past rose in her mind. Tony Stark, stumbling around red-faced and soused. Janet Van Dyne in sunglasses, hiding a spouse-inflicted shiner. Clint Barton, leering at her around the polarized lenses in his mask when first they met. Magneto – well. Magneto. God knew the listing of the original X-Men’s failings was too long to attempt.

Neither she nor Pietro had ever worn masks, she thought. And look what sorrow life had handed to them both.

************

 

 _There’s Cap,_ Wanda told herself, even in the dream. _Not even the Mother can find anything bad to say about Steve Rogers._

Exhausted and light-headed, Wanda found herself considering Steve in a way she never had before in all their years of friendship. How had she never looked upon him as a potential lover, a possible husband, a father? He was, as in all things, perfect. How was it that none of them had ever looked at Cap this way?

So she reached out to him, hoping for a lifeline to keep her afloat, and he took her hand.

But his embraces made her feel nothing. His kiss left her cold as ice.

One quiet afternoon he showed her a very old snapshot, of himself and a man he called Bucky. The boy beside the dark-haired man was scrawny and wasted from tuberculosis.

“This was me, before the Serum,” Steve said. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll wake up and be that boy again. Sometimes…I can’t understand how I can possibly deserve everything I’ve been given.”

Wanda just stared at him, uncomprehending. _They wear masks to hide their true faces,_ she thought.

************

 

Another day, another Avenger funeral.

Heavy of heart, Wanda watched the Avengers shed their crocodile tears for Jack of Hearts. How many funerals like this had she attended in her short life? Too many, she was sure.

She wandered from one corner of the parlor to the next, observing her fellow Avengers as if from a great distance. So tortured, so guilty, so sad over Jack’s death. Ice crystallized on Wanda’s heart.

_In two days they’ll have forgotten he ever existed,_ she thought, remembering dozens upon dozens of farm-team Avengers who had come and gone and left no mark upon the mansion. Jack was different only in that he wouldn’t be coming back, no matter how much the core team members claimed to wish it.

_Be careful what you wish for, Avengers._

Weeks later, she thought the same thing about Scott Lang, the second to call himself Ant-Man. The only thing that stopped her creeping cynicism was the sight of Lang’s young daughter Cassie, weeping. Her hero and her father, both gone in one big boom. Poor child.

The Vision did not weep, she noticed. She knew very well he was capable of producing synthetic tears. Perhaps he was just too honest to shed any for someone who mattered as little to them all as Jack had. 

_Or perhaps he feels nothing at all,_ she thought. Perhaps he’s just an empty shell, waiting for someone to fill it up with their purpose. Perhaps it doesn’t matter to him if it’s the team or me or Simon or even Ultron…

************

 

Desperate for answers, desperate for relief, Wanda turned to her old mentor, Agatha Harkness.

“Agatha, what is happening to me?” she begged the witch. “Why can’t I remember things? Why do people think I had two children?”

Agatha met her pleas with still, inscrutable silence.

Wanda had the sudden, fierce urge to tear the elderly woman limb from limb.

************

 

In the dream realm, the part of the Vision was now being played by a blow-up doll painted to resemble him. The boys wielded machetes and chopped cuts of meat off the body of Wanda’s old teacher Agatha Harkness, and gave them to Vision to grill up.

The Avengers waited expectantly around the picnic table, plates at the ready.

Beside her, the Mother said nothing. Wanda gave her a level side-eye, and the Mother returned it as if to say, _It’s your subconscious, not mine._

 

************

The Scarlet Witch slouched, bored, in her chair and let her thoughts drift through a mind-numbing Avengers meeting. Their voices blended together and faded into a drone much like the sound of crickets or cicadas, though she picked out an individual word or sentence here and there.

_Oh, She-Hulk. Can’t you go even a day without reminding us that you’re a lawyer?_ she thought. _So smug, aren’t you, that you can have your brains and your brawn when the Hulk can’t. As if you aren’t the merest shadow of Bruce Banner in every way imaginable._

Wanda recalled the first time she had seen the Hulk in a true berserker rage, and shivered, staring beyond She-Hulk into the past.

_I have seen your true face, Jennifer Walters, and it belongs to the Hulk. Not to you._

************

 

Wanda’s dream town was going up in flames. Her family’s own home was already reduced to ashes and rubble. 

The Avengers, dressed as firefighters, lounged in camp chairs along the ladder truck and took turns drinking from the fire hose. Every now and then a house would burst into a fresh wave of conflagration, and one or another of them would point and laugh.

“They are Earth’s mightiest heroes only when it suits their purposes to be,” the Mother pointed out. “They claim they will give their very lives to help any stranger, but when it came time to help you, they did _nothing,_ Wanda. They do nothing to help you still, even now. Do they even see your suffering?”

Beside the Mother, Wanda covered her face with both hands and screamed until her own screams woke her.

************

 

Wanda watched Janet and Clint frolic by the swimming pool, obliviously happy. Wilfully ignoring any shadow that might mar their idyll.

_How dare they,_ the Mother’s voice whispered. _How dare they claim their own happiness with one hand and deny you your happiness with the other?_

Wanda’s jaw set, and her heart hardened.

_A woman who can become tiny and a man with sticks and string,_ Wanda thought. _By what right do you call yourselves heroes? What on the gods’ green Earth would make you think you could stand against the massive threats faced by the Avengers?_

************

 

The world responded swiftly to the sight of Tony Stark’s true face. The president stripped him of his post as Secretary of Defense, and the United Nations summarily voted to disband the Avengers.

Quite literally over Jack of Hearts and Ant-Man’s dead bodies, they did this.

And into this madness, over the smoking ruin of Avengers Mansion, came a Kree invasion force. One SHIELD’s sensors could not detect as well as their own eyes could.

_Goodbye Hawkeye,_ Wanda thought. _This has been coming to you since the day you met the Avengers._

Heart unmoved, mind untouched by the chaos around her, the Scarlet Witch drifted away from the scene of the battle unnoticed.

************

 

The Mother of Monsters appeared by her side.

“You can make them all pay, my dear,” she said. “That is all well and good. But more importantly, you can reclaim your life. You can live in the world of your own choosing, Wanda Maximoff.”

Wanda blinked. “I – can I do that? I don’t understand. I don’t know _how._ ” 

“All you need do is will it so, my dear,” the Mother replied. “You have done so before, without even knowing it. Now you need only take full ownership of the abilities that have always been yours.”

She looked down at her hands. “Even if I did, I don’t have that kind of power.”

The Mother took her hands. Wanda felt a surge of unearthly magicks course through her body, and she shuddered and cried out. Then her mutant physiology absorbed the power and integrated it smoothly with her own.

“You do now.” The Mother smiled at her benevolently. “Go, Wanda. Home awaits you. Your family awaits you. But the Avengers will not be gainsaid for long. Whatever you choose, you must do it _now._ ”

“But the Avengers…” Wanda looked back uncertainly. “Mother, can’t you…?”

The Mother shook her head. “My powers here are sadly limited, dear Wanda. I can do little more than advise. What is done today, you must do yourself.”

Wanda looked down, mind a whirl of confusion. The Mother reached out a hand, tilted Wanda’s chin back up to face her.

“Ask yourself, my dear. What is truly the most important thing in the universe?” Wanda’s eyes widened, darkened. “What is it in life that you most truly _want_?”

************

 

In Wanda’s dream home, the walls were sturdy, the roof sound, and all was well with the world.

She puttered happily in the kitchen, stirring a pot of stew for the family’s dinner. Her darling husband the Vision, brother-in-law Simon Williams, and surrogate mother Agatha Harkness waited at the table, while the twins – Billy and Tommy – gamboled and chased each other through the halls. Her whole family was together at last, and it was truly Thanksgiving Day.

“Boys!” she caroled from the doorway, a soup tureen in both hands. “Dinner! It’s your favorite!”

“Yay!” Billy and Tommy scampered around her.

“You kids play nice today?” she asked as they took their seats at table.

“Ha!” “Shhhh!” “I wasn’t going to say anything!” Their voices overlapped and created a melody that was sweeter to Wanda’s ears than any music ever made.

“You two behave,” she said, ruffling Billy’s hair fondly. “What am I going to do with you two?”

A door opened, and a long shadow fell across the table.

“Wanda.”

Steve. Her eyes widened in horror.

“Wanda. Please let me help you.”

_Help me? Take away my family, you mean._

She opened her mouth to speak, but found the words stuck in her throat.

Instead, the twins voiced her fears. The high sharp note of terror in their voices was a knife through her heart.

“Go AWAY!” “I TOLD you we should’ve punished them all!” “No, no, he’s one of the good - ” “They’re going to break us up again!”

Then the Red Skull was there, with a platoon of Nazi soldiers, shooting at Steve. Forcing him back out the door. And Wanda once more found her voice.

“No. It won’t happen again. No one will take you away from me again.”

************

 

The Scarlet Witch floated above the assembled Avengers like a terrible angel of retribution. Even from on high she could feel their collective fear at the sight of her, and it filled her with strength and purpose.

_“You can’t have them.”_

She lashed out with her power, summoning each Avenger’s darkest fear to keep them at bay: Rogue for Carol, Ultron for Pym, out-of-control Wolverine and Hulk for so many of them. Who knew better what would stop them in their tracks than their most trusted companion Wanda Maximoff? Their friend from almost the very beginning of the Avengers.

Below her, from the doorway of their snug little cottage, her children – Billy and Tommy, never just an abstract idea of “children” ever again, they were _real_ and they were _hers_ \- cheered her on.

The boys were real. The fabric of existence, now _that_ was the abstraction.

************

 

 ** _“THIS STOPS NOW.”_**  
Dr. Strange. It would have to be Dr. Strange.

No matter. Sorcerer he may be, but still he is a man with mortal fears like anyone else. Wanda summoned the Dread Dormammu to face him.

“You can’t take my children away from me again!” she shrieked.

Then there was the Eye of Agamotto, shining its pitiless light upon Wanda. It burned through her mind and body, taking her apart down to her very cells and reassembling them. It sifted through every thought and desire and emotion, destroying some, magnifying others, setting them back in entirely different patterns.

Though the endless torture Wanda held on to one thought, one conviction: _My children are real. The boys exist. Somewhere, somehow, they must always exist._ And one last bit of her power fused with that belief, though neither she nor Strange was aware of it.

The torture ended at last, and Wanda felt herself falling.

She was too empty and hollow to care.

************

 

Steve caught her.

Steve would take care of her, always. Wanda relaxed, just the tiniest bit.

Then she heard the Voice. One from her nightmares, the one saying, “Dance, my blank-eyed beauty, dance!”

Magneto.

Her _father._

Steve placed her in Magneto’s arms.

Helpless to resist or even to stir, Wanda had one cogent thought as her father flew them away:

She would never forgive Steve for this. Never.

_I told you we should’ve punished them all!_

_He loves Mommy!_

But not her children. Love me, love my children, Steve. There is no separation between the two.

Wanda sighed. The Mother of Monsters would find her in her dreams. Together they would put the world right again. She was sure of it. It was only a matter of time.

************

 

In Asgard, Loki the Liesmith extinguished the candles, disposed of the herbs and ground minerals and wine, and stood.

Phase One of his plan was now complete. Avengers: Disassembled. On every level. In a way that could not be connected to him, and destroyed utterly their trust in one of their most stalwart and powerful members.

The Avengers should have realized Loki never, ever surrenders a grudge. Immortals have all eternity to craft the perfect revenge. Their fate was sealed the very first day they assembled to stand against him.

From on high he watched Wanda Maximoff – what was left of her – and waited. Why let such a fine instrument for his vengeance upon Midgard go to waste, just because it was a little the worse for wear?

He had time to bide. The Scarlet Witch would regain her power, and enough of her wits to be influenced again. He already had her trust. Soon enough would be soon enough.

Then it would be time to move on to Phase Two of his plan: No More Mutants.

With the Scarlet Witch and her ability to warp reality for his weapon, who could say what they could reshape the worlds of Midgard into? First Midgard, then Asgard. Then all the Nine Realms. With his magics channeled through her mutation, what could they _not_ do?

Loki’s laughter echoed through the marble halls of the House of Odin. 

An eldritch chill ran through the entire realm of Asgard, touching every living being in it. The Realm’s lesser beasts instinctively withdrew to any hiding place that might give them safety. The Aesir themselves felt the chill, shivered, and went on about their business.

What could there possibly be in the wind to frighten the mighty Norse Gods, after all?


End file.
